Death Waits For Nothing
by Rose H. McKellen
Summary: A Crime lord is set on getting Holmes off his tale, a teenage girl, and a case thicker then the blood that stained it. Sherlock Holmes is forced to take allies with Annabelle McKellen, a close friend of Watson. See what this story unfolds. From Anna's POV
1. And So It Begins

I was on my way to visit an old family friend, Dr. John Watson. I hadn't seen him since I was just a child, but my Mother kept in touch with him. My Father had served with him in Afghanistan, and Dr. Watson was the last man my Father talked to before he died. My dear mother had just left the country to meet a man that was going to be "My future Father" in America. I loved the idea that my Mother had found love again, but I didn't like her choice. I believe now, as I reflect on the past that she was marrying for money and not for love.

My mother had to sell the flat and what was left of our furniture to pay for her trip to America. She had told me of the great riches of the gold mines, but I paid no mind. My place was in England, it was all I had ever known, and all that I ever wanted to know. Here we had Gentlemen and dance parties, but the tales of America I had heard made my stomach turn.

Due to these circumstances I was left in England until she could buy me passage, which was to be only a week or two. The kind Doctor offered a room, after asking his land lady, in an instant! So now I was far from my country home and in the busy city of London.

When my taxi stopped at No. 221 B Baker Street, I simply wasn't amazed, I had thought it was some grand place, but in reality it was just a flat. I stepped out of the taxi, the rain pouring down, and me with no umbrella. In the few moments that I stood there I had heard the sound of a violin playing, causing my blue eyes to travel to the window above,. The drapes were down but I could clearly see the shadows of two men, one man, who I note was thin, was playing the wonderful music and the other was pacing the room, as though he was waiting for someone. I took the man pacing to be Dr. Watson.

I shook my head, realizing that I was getting soaked to the bone, I rushed forward to the door, ringing the bell. My cab was not to happy, he was unloading my two trunks while grumbling, I don't know why though, I traveled light! Finally I heard someone open the door, I turned my attention onto the small older woman, who carried a warm smile with her.

"Greetings , miss." the woman said smiling, "Come in, before you catch your death." she rushed me in, and took my coat. "I'm Mrs. Hudson,." the old woman introduced herself as we walked the stairs, " Dr. Watson has been expecting you, Miss, McKellen." her small hand reached the door and lightly knocked. We then heard something, but I couldn't understand what was said. " I'll show the man where to put your bags." she said as she opened the door, leading me into the room where Watson had been pacing.

Mrs. Hudson left and I stood there watching my old friend look at me in surprise, finally he spoke, "Annabelle? My how you've grown…" he was astonished.

A smile crossed my lips, "you haven't change a bit," I laughed. He had always said that when I was younger, but this time it was true. I hadn't seen him since I was ten years old.

The Doctor led me to a seat that I hadn't taken yet, but the whole time I was there I was being watched. I drew my attention to a tall blonde man with hawk-like features. He had a violin in one hand and a bow in the other. His eyes were sharp and felt piercing. The man had to be over six feet tall, but he was thin.

"You must be Miss Annabelle McKellen?" the tall man seemed to be studying me, "You are about 16 years of age, no older and you have a long white haired cat…"

"This is my friend, Sherlock Holmes," interrupted Watson.

Mr Holmes spoke again, "Pray, sit down," he waited for me to sit, then he took his seat in a green armchair and lit a wooded pipe.

Curiosity made me look around, seeing many different things, like chemicals by the back wall, books everywhere and a desk. I saw a stack of papers that reminded me of when Dr. Watson first moved into Baker Street, all the letters he sent about this amazing man , Sherlock Holmes. And I must admit after reading those letters and seeing the man, he was not how I imagined him, but he was definitely a interesting fellow.

As he was studying me, I decided to study him back, and noticed nothing more. He laid back into his chair, smoking his pipe. Watson had gone to the door to ask Mrs. Hudson for something warm to drink, so due to the boredom, I tried to strike up a conversation with the notorious detective, "Watson has told me some of you adventures. I have heard much about you," I looked at him seeing if he would answer.

"Yes, and I have heard much about you for the past week or so. " he answered with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

I noted that and didn't speak until Watson had returned, Mrs. Hudson was right behind him with a tray, holding tea and cookies. My stomach growled, as I realized how long it had been since I had a bite to eat. Watson handed me a cup and saucer, not wanting me to leave my spot by the fire. I ate a cookie or two, and drank my tea slowly, the whole time I watched the room.

At this moment I remembered what mother said right before she set sail. "Don't let Dr. Watson know how poor we have become, he will take it upon himself to help us." I never understood why my mother tried so hard to keep her appearance. I indeed felt wrong, like I was lying to the man I trusted most, but I had to keep up the act. But I had a sinking feeling that , Mr. Holmes could see right through me.

There was a silence, but that was broken by Holmes who stood up and looked at me, "Goodnight Miss McKellen, Goodnight Watson," and with that the great detective made his way to his room. I lightly yawned and looked at Watson. Mrs. Hudson who had left the room moments earlier made her way back into the room, "Miss, McKellen, your room is ready, its down stairs in my area of the house."

I took this as my time to follow her, and said good night to Dr. Watson. When we got downstairs I looked around my rather small room. But it was a warm bed, in a safe place, so someone like me shouldn't complain. I looked over to the corner where my two trunks sat.

"Thank you so much, Mrs. Hudson, this is perfect." I smiled at her, and she took the complement. Soon I was alone, I blew out my candle and laid in my bed, thinking of what lay before me in life.


	2. Bad Way to Start The Morning

In the morning I just laid in bed thinking of the night before, everything passing through my mind, then something surfaced, Watson didn't know about my cat. How could Sherlock Holmes have known that? That put me in a panicked state. With that I climbed out of my warm and comfortable bed, got dressed in my blue dress, the one I would wear to church , now remember I was trying to keep my appearance up. I had a feeling that the men were going to let me sleep in, because of my long trip, but I was up in time for breakfast. I walked to the hall as usual, my steps were very silent, I heard Holmes talking, so I stood at the bottom of the stair, and listened.

"Watson, you said that her family was well off."

"Yes," Watson replied, with a curious streak in that word.

Holmes then said, "Her boots have been resoled, and she didn't have an umbrella, when any girl in England would have had one last night."

I could hear what I thought was a grumble from Watson, "I didn't know…"

"And her dresses must be hand downs from someone, possibly her mother."

Now I could have barged in there to say something, but then they would have known that I had been listening in. So I snuck back to my room for a moment and sat on my bed, looking at the boots on my feet. Now I realize why my mother made us look like we were rich, it hurt a lot to realize that I was in fact poor. I wouldn't let that tear come rolling down my cheek; I had to be strong, like my father was. If my Father was still alive this all wouldn't be happening, I would be in the country side eating breakfast, with the rooster crowing and the servants rushing around the house.

My Father had been a gentle and sweet man; he would drop anything to help someone he didn't even know. He had been wounded saving a troop of his friends in Afghanistan, my Father was an officer, and that he died saving his men. I had been numb since he died, and the reality of my situation of a new father was sinking in more and more each day. I was dreading the voyage to American because I knew that it would hit me more.

My steps were louder as I walked into the hall and made my way up those stairs, hearing Holmes announce that I was on my way. My hand weakly knocked at the door, and I heard Holmes yell," Come in" and so I did. I came to see the room in the day light and trust me it was a strange sight. The chemicals were all different colours, the wall had bullet holes, and papers flooded a desk by the wall, there was so much that I cannot even explain, but again I was in no position to complain.


End file.
